A million kisses
by RonWeasleysGirl
Summary: Another fluffy Harry/Ron FIC. SLASH- very mild though.


Title: A million kisses  
  
Author: Ron Weasley's Girl  
  
Rating: PG (un besito)  
  
Pairing: Harry/Ron  
  
Diclaimer: Harry and Ron etc. belong to Joanne K Rowling. No  
  
infringement intended.  
  
A/N: THIS IS SLASH!!!! AND this is Fluff Extreme. Too sweet and too idealistic. But that's the way I like it, sorry. *shrugs*  
  
Archive: I doubt you want that stuff, but if you do..well, all those  
  
to who I gave my permission earlier don't need to ask. Others please  
  
do though, I'll probably say "Yes" gladly.  
  
  
  
A million kisses (Harry's POV)  
  
A lot changed in our sixth year.  
  
One day it just hit me like a Bludger that we were  
  
in love.  
  
I didn't know much about love, but if this wasn't it  
  
I had no idea what love should be then.  
  
  
  
  
  
If it wasn't love, the way I started to talk rubbish  
  
when Ron and I were too alone too long in a too  
  
dimly lit room.  
  
  
  
  
  
Or the silence that fell between us when we made our  
  
way back from Hogsmeade together on a Saturday  
  
night, listening to the crunching of our feet in the fresh  
  
snow in winter, or to the chirping of the crickets in  
  
summer.  
  
  
  
  
  
The way my face started to practically glow when Ron  
  
smiled at me across the table at lunch.  
  
  
  
  
  
Or how I sometimes caught him casting shy glances in  
  
my direction with a beautiful expression of wonder  
  
on his face.  
  
  
  
  
  
Of course I didn't have the guts to do anything.  
  
  
  
  
  
I was too afraid to be mistaken.  
  
I was used to spending a lot of time in my own  
  
little dream world.  
  
I had done so for more than a decade and still did  
  
it, during the holidays at Privet Drive, when I dreamt  
  
of spending it with Ron instead, at the sea maybe, just  
  
him and me, chasing each other on the beach, or just  
  
lying there, talking calmly and feeling the hot sand  
  
against our naked backs.  
  
  
  
  
  
Wishful thinking.  
  
Maybe I was only having another wonderful dream again.  
  
  
  
  
  
Outstretched in the backyard of the Weasley's in  
  
the middle of the summer after sixth year, watching the  
  
stars, just the two of us, I started to dream again,  
  
as the now familiar silence fell between us once  
  
more.  
  
  
  
  
  
It wasn't an awkward one, but really not a comfortable  
  
one either.  
  
  
  
  
  
Maybe you could call it...expectant. And peaceful at  
  
the same time.  
  
  
  
  
  
Ron's body was close enough for me to feel his body  
  
heat, and I felt like floating, like only he could  
  
make me feel.  
  
I was more nervous than ever, more than I had been  
  
before my Potions exams.  
  
My heart thumped painfully against my ribs and it  
  
took all of my willpower to just remain still and to not run away.  
  
  
  
  
  
Instead , I did probably the bravest thing I had  
  
ever done in my whole life.  
  
  
  
  
  
I mentally took a deep, deep breath and took Ron's hand.  
  
  
  
  
  
I squeezed my eyes shut as hard as I could, grinding  
  
my teeth and preparing to have my dreams shattered.  
  
  
  
  
  
I remained like that for what seemed like an eternity, but  
  
when there was no reaction I relaxed, at least physically,  
  
because inwardly I felt...  
  
I started to ask myself if one could die from too  
  
much emotion.  
  
The feeling of my small hand in Ron's warm, gentle  
  
grasp left me yearning in every part of my body.  
  
  
  
  
  
And as he suddenly squeezed it almost unnoticeably, I  
  
felt my heart run over.  
  
My heart loved him and my body wanted him and my  
  
soul just simply needed him.  
  
  
  
  
  
I was so nervous - I cannot tell you how nervous I  
  
was when I felt him move - and tremblingly turned  
  
to face him.  
  
I looked into his eyes and another eternity passed  
  
where I could do nothing but marvel at the beauty of  
  
his face.  
  
  
  
  
  
Through my eyes one couldn't be more perfect than he was.  
  
  
  
  
  
And then he was *Ron*.  
  
  
  
  
  
Not only so beautiful that it broke my heart a  
  
thousand times and mended it at the same time.  
  
Not only perfect, but also Ron.  
  
  
  
  
  
*My* Ron, the most wonderful person.  
  
Fiery and insecure, erotic and untainted, protective  
  
and vulnerable, a bunch of opposites, which went together  
  
perfectly well.  
  
  
  
  
  
I tried to explore his bottomless innocent eyes,  
  
tried to figure out what he was thinking, if he was trying  
  
to find a way to tell me that he liked me, loved me  
  
as a friend, but that I was going too far by  
  
reaching for his hand under the starry skies.  
  
  
  
  
  
But then I noticed the slight trembling of his  
  
fingers on the back of my hand.  
  
  
  
  
  
And then..  
  
  
  
  
  
"I've fallen in love with you, Harry."  
  
  
  
  
  
He whispered it into the night and I was dying.  
  
I was glad I was lying down cause my knees were jelly  
  
my stomach was a swarm of bumblebees gone wild and my  
  
heart skipped several beats, and as it started again,  
  
it was so loud that I was sure Ron could hear it, too.  
  
  
  
  
  
This had to be a dream.  
  
It was just another wonderful dream, wasn't it?  
  
  
  
  
  
I couldn't do anything but stare, afraid that it was just a  
  
joke, that Ron would laugh and slap me playfully the  
  
next second and then I would have to laugh, too, and  
  
pretend that my heart hadn't broken indelibly.  
  
  
  
  
  
But it wasn't another dream and it wasn't a joke either.  
  
Ron's hand still trembled in mine and his eyes were  
  
filled with panic as he spoke up again.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Please say something, Harry."  
  
  
  
  
  
Softly I shook my head and swallowed hard.  
  
All pieces of my broken heart fell neatly into place  
  
again, and I felt my soul repair itself.  
  
  
  
  
  
"No," I managed and again gathered all the courage  
  
in the world as I raised a shy hand and touched the  
  
tender skin of his cheek.  
  
"We already wasted too much time talking."  
  
  
  
  
  
And then I brushed my lips to his.  
  
It didn't last longer than a second.  
  
It was probably the most tentative kiss in the world.  
  
  
  
  
  
But it was enough for me.  
  
It was not another dream.  
  
It was real.  
  
  
  
  
  
And it was the beginning of a million kisses.  
  
  
  
  
  
THE END 


End file.
